it. I’ll give Skulduggery some excuse. He won’t miss me.”
“Valkyrie, from what I know of it, sealing your name is a major procedure. You have to be sure, going in, that this is the best thing to do.”
“I’m going to be sure. You remember when Dusk bit me? He tasted something in my blood, something that marked me out as different. I think that whatever he tasted has to do with Darquesse. So I’m going to get a second opinion.”
Gordon frowned. “You’re going to get someone else to taste your …? Oh, I see. You’re talking about him.”
“Caelan will be able to tell me what Dusk sensed. If it’s bad, I won’t need any more proof or prodding. I’ll know this is something I have to do.”
“Right,” Gordon said gently.
Valkyrie nodded, feeling an unwelcome mixture of apprehension and uncertainty. She left the Echo Stone in the hidden room and took the notebook from the shelf, flicking through the pages until she got to the part about the banshee. She put the notebook in her jacket pocket and went down to the living room. Her phone beeped again, and a moment later Fletcher Renn appeared beside the fireplace. Blond hair standing on end, lips always ready to kiss or smirk, one hand behind his back, the other with a thumb hooked into the belt loops of his jeans.
“I’m gorgeous,” he said.
Valkyrie sighed. “Are you, now?”
“Do you ever just look at me and think, God he’s gorgeous? Do you? I do, all the time. I think you’re gorgeous too, of course.”
“Cheers.”
“You’ve got lovely dark eyes, and lovely dark hair, and your face is all pretty and stuff. And I love the way you dress in black, and I love the new clothes.”
“It’s a jacket, Fletch.”
“I love the new jacket,” he insisted. “Ghastly really made a lovely, lovely jacket.” He grinned.
“You look wide awake,” she said. “You’re never wide awake at this hour of the morning.”
“I’ve been researching. You’re not the only one who likes to read books, you know. Apparently, my power will increase if I work at it a little, so I thought I’d give it a try. I was told there was this book in Italy, written by a famous Teleporter – dead now, obviously – that could really help me, so I went there and got it.”
“Good man.”
“But it was written all in Italian, so I left it on the shelf and went to Australia for ice cream.” He brought his other hand out from behind his back, holding an ice-cream cone. “Got one for you.”
“Fletcher, it’s winter.”
“Not in Australia.”
“We’re not in Australia.”
“I’ll take you to Sydney for five minutes, you can eat the ice cream while we watch the sunset, and then we’ll come back to the misery here.”
Valkyrie sighed. “Your power is wasted on you.”
“My power is brilliant. Everyone wishes they had my power.”
“I don’t. I quite like being able to hurl people away from me just by moving the air.”
“Well, every non-violent person wishes they had my power, how’s that?”
Valkyrie frowned. “I’m not a violent person.”
“You punch people every day.”
“Not every day.”
“Val, you know I think you’re great, and I think you’re the coolest chick I’ve ever met, and the prettiest girl ever – but you get into a hell of a lot of fights. Face it, you lead a violent life.”
She wanted to protest, but no argument sprang to mind. Fletcher stopped holding out the ice cream, and started licking it instead, already forgetting what they’d just been talking about. Valkyrie checked the time, forcing her attention back to the here and now.
“Are you getting me anything for Christmas?” Fletcher asked, and Valkyrie found herself grinning despite everything.
“Yes. You better be getting me something.”
He shrugged. “Of course I am.”
“It better be amazing.”
“Of course it is. Hey, this time next year, you’ll have someone else to buy presents for. When’s your mum due?”
“Middle of February. I’m going to be asked to babysit, you know. How am I supposed to do that?”
“Get your reflection to do it.”
“I’m not leaving the baby with the reflection. Are you nuts? But I don’t even know how to hold a baby. Their heads are so big. Aren’t babies’ heads abnormally large? I’m not sure I’m going to be a good big sister. I hope she doesn’t take after me. I’d like her to have friends.”
“You have friends.”
“I’d like her to have friends who weren’t hundreds of years older than her.”
“Have you realised that you’re referring to the baby as ‘her’?”
“Am I? I suppose I am. I don’t know. It just feels like it’s going to be a girl.”
“Do you think she’ll be magic?”
“Skulduggery says it’s possible. Of course, that doesn’t mean she’ll ever find out about magic. Take my cousins, for example.”
“Ah, the infamous Toxic Twins.”
“They’re descended from the Last of the Ancients the same as I am, but we’ll never know if they can do magic, because they don’t know magic even exists.”
“So if you don’t want your sister involved in this crazy life of yours, you can just not tell her. And in twenty-five years, she’ll be looking at you, going, ‘Hey, sis, how come we look like we’re exactly the same age?’ Will you tell her then that magic slows the aging process?”
“I’ll probably just tell her that my natural beauty makes me look eternally young. She’s my little sister – she’ll believe anything I tell her.”
“To be honest, Val, I love the fact that this is happening. Once you have a sister, or a brother, that looks up to you and needs you, it might make you stop and think before rushing into dangerous situations.”
“I do stop and think.”
“And then you rush in anyway.”
“There’s still stopping and thinking involved.”
Fletcher
